Page 32 of Holiday Haven

A spark of anger burst free. “Are you saying I'd love Joy more if she were my own daughter?”

“No.” He hastily backpedaled. “Of course not.”

“Because my relatives, my own flesh and blood didn't love us enough to take me and Danielle into their homes,” she continued. “Much less into their hearts. The only exception was Aunt Bea, and we didn’t get to her until the very end.”

“Their loss, Krista,” he pointed out softly.

Just that quickly, her anger deflated. “Yes. You’re right. It was their loss.”

“I want the same thing for Joy that you do,” he said in a low tone. “A loving family.”

She believed him, although she could tell he didn’t think she was enough. Maybe he was right. What if there was a young couple, two parents who would want to take Joy into their hearts and their home.

Her heart squeezed in her chest and she reminded herself that the baby may not be easy to place with her hearing loss. They sat in silence for a moment. He sat down his empty mug and patted the cushions. “Thanks for the coffee and for letting me sleep on your sofa.”

She took that as her cue to leave. “I don't mind. I feel better knowing you're not driving home in that mess out there.”

“Me, too.” She felt his gaze upon her as she stood, picked up the tray and carried it into the kitchen. Okay, if she were honest she would admit she was hoping for a repeat of their kiss. But when she told him about her past, about her feelings for Joy and wanting a family, the mood had changed. She didn't think it was her imagination that he'd subtly shifted away from her.

His feelings for her weren’t what she’d hoped for.

She headed back into the living room, her step slowing when she discovered Adam had taken off his tuxedo jacket, tie and shoes and was stretched out full length on her sofa, his arm tucked under his head. Yeah, he was definitely putting distance between them.

Hiding the flash of disappointment, she ducked into her room, lifted a spare pillow and blanket from her bed and carried them through to Adam. “I hope the pillow and blanket helps make you more comfortable.”

“Thanks.” His murmured response sent a shiver of awareness skating down her back.

“You're welcome.” She forced herself to turn away. “Goodnight, Adam.”

“Goodnight.”

For a long time she stared at the ceiling above her bed. She replayed their conversation, and their intense kiss over and over in her mind until she wanted to scream. She didn't think she imagined his response to her on the dance floor. Yet it was just as obvious he planned to do nothing about it.

Why? That was the part she didn’t really understand. And was annoyed to realize she hadn't overcome her youthful feelings of inadequacy after all.

* * *

Adam didn't getmuch sleep that night, and while he would have liked to blame the short, narrow frame of the sofa, he knew the real reason was because Krista’s pillow and blanket smelled like her.

In the bright light of morning, he sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. He told himself he was glad he hadn't taken advantage of the situation. Yes, he was attracted to her. But emotionally he wasn't sure starting a relationship with Krista would be in either of their best interests.

He needed to tell her the truth about the car accident and losing his son. Last night he'd almost blurted out the truth but had held back. He had gotten so used to hiding his feelings he wasn't sure how to change. Or even how to segue into the conversation. What was he supposed to say?

By the way, Krista did you know that Danielle was pregnant and we lost the baby the night of the car accident?

Yeah, that sort of thing didn't exactly roll off the tongue.

And he was haunted by the possibility she would be horrified once she learned the truth.

His fault. If he hadn't been arguing with Danielle that night, he would have seen the truck barreling through the intersection straight toward them. There had been time to avoid the crash. Plenty of time to save his son.

That night still haunted him. In the hospital, the nurse had wrapped his stillborn son and asked if he wanted to hold him. He'd taken the baby boy, staring down at his tiny perfect face knowing he'd failed him.

Danielle had cried, turning her face away, refusing to see or hold the baby. He had been inexplicably angry with her for not even looking at their son.

He knew he needed to put the past to rest. Nothing would bring his son back. He had gone through all the stages of grief, even blaming God for taking his son. But he knew the fault was his. He could not let go of his guilt.

Couldn't even bring himself to talk about it.

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